


SUPERFOODS

by goodnightfern (orphan_account)



Category: Venom (Comics), Venom (Movie 2018)
Genre: Cannibalism, Chocolate Conspiracy Theories, Food, Gore, Other, Phenethylamine, Tom Hardy's Brooklyn Accent, awful journalism, fun human bathroom activities, jackin it, teratophilia meets morosexuality and everyone loses, venom says: eat the rich
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-15
Updated: 2018-10-18
Packaged: 2019-08-02 09:02:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16302155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/goodnightfern
Summary: Eddie needs a job.No, not ajob, like he's about to get paid pennies per word by some clickbait site. What he needs is a big break. A real story; some good-old, from the streets, total gonzo,investigative journalismtype of thing.And, well, he needs to keep his parasite happy and well-fed, too, but that's a given at this point.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> i have so much other stuff to be writing but *spreads hands* welcome to my venom vacation, baby

"Goddammit." Eddie closes his laptop with a thud and picks up his beer. "You know that World Truth TV site? Nothin' but clickbait garbage. This guy, he thinks he's some kinda Freemason. Lunatic. Total fuckin' lunatic."

_What is clickbait?_

"Fake news. Just a buncha lies and conspiracies." He squeaks back his chair right as the oven timer goes off. The clam strips are sad, greasy, and burn his fingers, but they don't taste so bad. "I used to be a serious journalist, you know. I got a degree. I had my own show. I should be getting offers from like, CNN and stuff. Not all these - all these clickbait scammers and crap. Wanting me to write about detox diets and the Illuminati. Jesus Christ."

Eddie involuntarily spits out a mouthful of half-chewed clam strips. A few strands of black thread land with them, until he swallows them back up and the voice reverberates.

_Too much breading. Not enough fish._

"What, you too good for seafood now?"

_You call that seafood?_

"I call it seafood for a dollar."

_Eddie, Eddie. You can do better._

"I could!" He kicks the mess across the floor. Nah, that was a mistake. He'll clean it up like a good boy. "I could do better. I should do better. I - no. We deserve better than this."

 _Clickbait and clam strips._ Venom sounds genuinely disgusted.

"I was a _good_ journalist."

_I know you were, Eddie._

"And I can still be one. I just need a big story. A wild break, you know?"

_Don't write about -_

"No, no, course not. I need a real story, you know? Something big. I just gotta get back to that honest, real, from the streets, totally gonzo, investigative journalism. Just like the old days. Just you wait till I get my big break. And then, baby? Lobster and steak, every day."

_Did you just call me an infant?_

"It's a term of endearment," Eddie mumbles, heading for the window. It's half past eight, which means the city is still popping. Outside it smells like the ocean, like traffic, like the Chinese restaurant down the street. A little bit like - pigeons? The symbiote is smelling those, all right. Kinda cold out, though, and his apartment is expensive to heat, so he closes the window.

Maybe that's his whole problem. He's been cooped up. Getting rejection letters from Buzzfeed, adjusting to his new shared life, et cetera. Hasn't been out and hit the streets in what, two weeks?

He's got to go out to where the story is. Feel the beat of the streets beneath his feet and like, in his heart and shit. The truth is out there - whatever it is and what it's about, he'll figure that out on the way.

"C'mon, buddy," he tells his buddy. "I think I'm ready to jump out the window this time."

 

 

The City of Industry is a good place to start. Shit is raw here, real, and it smells like diesel fumes. They crawl up from the bay at Oyster Point, onto a dock lined with jet-skis. When Venom hisses and slithers back under his skin, Eddie is still warm and dry. Swimming like that never gets old.

The Story could be anywhere. There’s like three major biotech companies right on Oyster Point. Dangerous GMOs from Genetech, maybe? What might be in those shipping crates from China, or hazardous chemical containers from Germany? Anything could be happening in these mysterious warehouses, or down by those docks stretching out into the bay. Gangsters and villains and superpowered mutants making shady deals down by the docks, yeah, that’s what he’s talking about.

Heck, he’s right by the airport. All kinds of international travelers coming in. Dangerous international travelers.

_Could have had one of those sea lions._

“What, those ones back at the beach? Nah, man, sea lions are like a tourist attraction here. Everyone goes to Pier One or wherever to look at them.”

_Fat, tasty tourist attraction._

“Probably greasy as hell with all that blubber.”

_Won’t know until we try it, Eddie._

“Maybe on the way back, okay?”

The story comes first. The story _always_ comes first.

Sadly, there doesn’t seem to be much of a story. No secret whispers hidden among storage units, no guns being cocked between the trucks. Only security cameras and locked gates.

There’s gotta be something, somewhere. His feet take him down through the Eastside. Bunch of car rental agencies. He can’t think of anything particularly shady about that. Not so bad, though, going out for a nice walk along the canal. His other half draws him to the sourdough bread factory on Spruce. What could possibly be suspicious about bread? GMO wheat, maybe. Monsanto - nah, Monsanto is old news. Besides, they just merged with Bayer. That’s no story.

Eddie sighs. His feet are starting to -

_Mmmm._

“Whassat?”

_I smell it, Eddie. I smell **chocolate.**_

“Oh, yeah. There’s the Sees factory down the street.”

_Want some._

“Well, we can’t go breaking in. It’s closed.”

But damn, does it smell good. So good his sore feet suddenly feel warm and tingly and energetic, fast enough to sprint down the street towards the factory.

_Relax, Eddie. Just… smelling._

Yeah, yeah, it smells fucking fantastic, but Eddie can’t help but notice that there’s no barbed wire on the back fence. The loading docks are all empty, trucks put to bed for the night. But he’s not going to break into the See’s Chocolate factory or anything. There’s no story there.

Wait a second.

What if there was?

_Yes, Eddie. The story is inside. We can break in and -_

“No, no, no. Listen. Think about chocolate. Like, where does it come from?”

_Huh?_

“All cacao, it comes from like, South America and Africa. Like coffee. And there’s...” well, Eddie knows there’s a variety of human rights abuses in the coffee industry. That’s why Starbucks is so expensive, and why so many of the new hip coffeeshops advertise being fair-trade.

Eddie pulls out his phone and runs a quick Google and oh, shit.

**Inside Big Chocolate’s Child Labor Problem**

**Child Labor and Slavery in the Chocolate Industry**

**Does Your Chocolate Come From Slaves???**

Does it?

Shit.

Wait, wait, he can’t move too fast here. Fuck, the last journalist who got deep in this oh-so-conveniently disappeared. He can't -

_Yes we can, Eddie. Infiltrate. Explore. Find evidence -_

“No, no, no. That’s what fucked me over the first time.” Eddie reels away from the - shit, was he just trying to climb the fence? - from the fence. “We gotta go regroup. We gotta do research. And then - then we break into the See’s. You got me? Besides, it’s like, midnight.”

A horrible sensation seizes his gut, tendrils of pain sizzling out from the center to the extremities, and a formless mass emerges from his shoulder. It doesn’t scare him anymore, though. Almost kind of fun, seeing the voice in his head suddenly materialize like that.

Venom’s jaw completely unhinges when he hisses, “If we’re not getting chocolate -”

“Sea lion. Yeah, I got you.”

A swim through the canals and up the bay later, Venom hauls a headless sea lion up on the beach, right in the shadow of the Oakland Bridge, and devours.

It is greasy, yes, but the fat is good. Fat is energy, burned quick and stored forever. Blood is the only seasoning the meat needs, and the flippers, flappy and rubbery, are incredible. Bony, but bones can be crunched, the cartilage is surprisingly satisfying to chew, and so Eddie finds himself lying in the comforting arms of a rib cage, sucking meditatively on a cracked rib as Venom seeps back under his skin.

Then he jumps up, making frantic motions as if he can brush the soaked-in blood off his hoodie, and says, “Jesus fucking Christ.”

_Was it not good, Eddie?_

Bacon's fatty too, isn't it? It's just meat. Eddie swallows, and says, “Yeah. It was good.”

Sea lion aside, they’ve got a job to do. A purpose, now.

They swim north, and long parasite limbs fling him through the city on towards home.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mild dubcon? also, warnings for eddie being .... a very bad journalist, as he is, in the movie,

Seal fat is a nightmare to wash off. The shower runs until the entire bathroom is basically a sailor’s sauna, and Eddie’s still just trying to get it out of his hair. For all he knows his hair is clean, it’s just his hands that are greasy and only making it worse.

 _Let me try,_ Venom says, and a black jet erupts from his shoulder to upend the entire bottle of shampoo over his head.

“Jesus!” Eddie jumps, slips, tries to steady himself on the also-slippery shower tile. “What are you doing up?”

 _Washing._ The back of Eddie’s neck prickles as more of the symbiote emerges to start scrubbing his head.

Eddie wipes shampoo from his face and considers this turn of events. It does feel good, that strange ooze massaging his scalp. Really… nice? No shit, of course it feels nice. Anne used to do this in the shower for him. Or in bed, sometimes, when she’d be reading case files while Eddie scrolled the news, she’d just stroke his head. Just like that.

That’s not necessarily what Eddie wants to remember right now, though, thanks. He shakes himself. “No, I mean, what are you doing in the shower?”

_Where else would I be, Eddie?_

“I mean - God. I’ve - I never - I guess I just figured you were taking a nap or something? While I - you know.”

_Not sleeping, Eddie. Watching._

“What, you just sit there and watch while I take a shit? While I - “

Eddie’s face gets hot. He's so dumb, he didn’t even think about this. But he has definitely, certainly, _absolutely_ jerked it since getting possessed. In this very shower.

 _That too,_ Venom says smugly.

The tentacles in his hair slip down his neck and shoulders, still massaging in circles. But more are emerging. Lower ones. His dick looks woefully small compared to the massive black curls twisting around his legs.

“What the hell!” he yelps. “Get off!”

_And go where?_

This time Eddie falls. What would’ve been a brutal hit to the tailbone ends in a warm pulsing mass. Thanks for that, he guesses.

“That’s a violation, man. You can’t just - just intrude on a man’s personal time like that.”

_Never asked to watch you scratch your balls, either._

“You don’t have to watch! Just tune out or something.”

 _Boring_.

“Yeah, well. Being human is boring sometimes.”

_Oh, no, no, no Eddie. See, I like to watch, even your mundane and pitiful. Not watching, Eddie. **Learning.** I know how to clean you. Wash all that nasty seal fat you hate right off you. Wash it right off your dick, too._

Well. Eddie was planning on having actual fun with that. Instead he curls up in a ball and pouts even as the black goop oozes and rambles, soaping up his body with the shampoo dripping from his head.

Maybe he’s the one being a jerk. With great power comes great tradeoffs, right? This thing is literally living in his body. It’d be weirder if Venom wasn’t watching him jerk off and take dumps. Like, so what. Eddie’s got a perfectly nice dick. Anne liked watching him jerk off.

Aaand he’s conflating his ex-fiance with this alien in his guts again. Who’s the weird one now?

“Oh for the love a -” Eddie swats at the tentacle holding a loofah. “Fine, you know what? You know me so well? You think my, uh, my bodily motions are just so fun and quaint? Do it, then.”

 _Already am._ The loofah swipes up and down his arm. 

"Not that." Eddie uncurls, trying to spread himself out a bit, but the shower is cramped. Still, he manages to look a bit commanding when he points at his (very nice) dick and says, “I mean, jerk me off. If you think you can, that is.”

The alien doesn't exactly rise to his challenge, it’s already there. Eddie gasps, knees shaking, as a literal swamp envelops his cock, like Venom's just gonna swallow it whole like a damn sea lion's brains. And Jesus Christ, the way it moves, undulating like a pussy never could - Eddie jerks, nearly giving himself a concussion, but there it is again, an oozing caress rather than shower tile.

It’s speading out all over the shower. Tendrils creeping through rivulets, sliding up the walls, and the head emerges, all six billion fangs gleaming and wet. Hard to tell on that alien face, but the expression could best be described as smug.

“Yeah,” Eddie pants. “Yeah, yeah. You learned.”

_Good, right?_

Weirder than even the weirdest Japanese cartoons he might have seen, once or twice, but - ah, fuck, is there any point to lying when the damn thing is inside his head? Reading his mind? Christ, he can't believe Venom has seen him pooping but is down to... do this. Even Anne knew how to tell him when his shit stunk.

What the hell.

He comes fast, embarrassingly so, and it’s good. Damn good. Like his entire body just died and went to technicolor heaven good, and his head is still on fire even as the symbiote goop slides down the shower walls and back into his body. It’s weird, and freaky as hell, and he doesn’t want to even think about what just happened, but yeah. Fine. Venom has _learned_.

Still takes another thirty minutes to get all of the damn seal fat off.

 

 

Eddie wakes up next afternoon surprisingly refreshed and astonishingly hungry. The first breakfast burrito does nothing to stop the growling, and with a sigh he starts heating up the second (and last) one left in the package. 

“Why you always gotta be so hungry, huh?” He starts the coffee machine while the microwave does its duty. “We had a whole sea lion last night.”

_Still hungry._

_"_ What are you hungry for?"

_Brains._

"What's up with you and the brains, anyways? You sound like a freaking zombie or something. Something special about them, like, is it a, like a freaky alien nutrition thing?" From the symbiote’s silence, he supposes the alien doesn’t know either. Venom probably wasn’t a scientist back on the home planet. "Wait, you're not eating my brain, are you?"

_No, to both. Just... absorbing yours. Not eating._

“Thanks for not eating my brain.” Eddie takes another bite of his burrito. “How’s this in the meantime?”

_Dead. Boring. But the gooey stuff, that’s nice._

“That’s cheese. Comes from cows. Like the beef.”

_Let’s get a cow, Eddie. A live cow. And eat its -_

“Nuh-uh, that’s how you get Mad Cow Disease. At, least, I think?”

That doesn’t sound bad, though. Take a long drive out into the country, find some fat juicy cows - Eddie realizes he’s drooling.

“Cows later, buddy. We got work to do.”

_Right. **Chocolate.**_

“You and chocolate, man,” he chuckles, and takes his burrito and coffee to his laptop.

For the first time in a while Eddie is feeling inspired again. This kind of thing, bringing some dirty corporate secrets to light, is his bread and butter. An idle Google brings up plenty of bad news about chocolate. Eddie skims the pages about kids scarred from machetes, working sunup to sundown for little to no pay - typical big business in the third world type of deal, it seems. Saving African babies is something Americans historically care about. That heartstring angle might be good to play up for the hits, but more and more Americans are learning that "Africa" is not, actually, a single country. This isn’t a charity campaign. It’s about taking down the big bastard corporations whose mansions are built on the backs of those children. Like _Sees_.

Warren Buffet, the owner of Sees, seems like too big of a target for Eddie right now. He's got to build his way up to that. The current acting CEO is some guy named Brad Kinstler whose net worth isn't even publicly available online. Which only means he's got something to hide. Eddie zooms in on the picture of a bland, smiling white man. Looks like a -

_Total douchebag. Let’s eat his brains._

“What? No, no, we’re not gonna -”

_Eat. His. Brains._

“If we find out he's making his money off evil chocolate, maybe, _maybe_ then we can eat his brains, okay?"

_If he's making money from evil chocolate, then he must be evil. We will split open his skull, and scoop out his brains, and mix them in with the chocolate, and we will **eat it all,** Eddie._

There's a hot, pulsing tension in his shoulder, and then the alien's head emerges to twist over and around to meet his own. There's not much to see in the Venom's brilliant white eyes, or any feeling Eddie can divulge from the razor-sharp smile. It shoots straight for the laptop screen, actually chomping at the image. 

"Yeah," Eddie sighs. "I guess he looks pretty tasty to you, huh?"

"Let's go. Now." Venom's long... neck? twists around. "Back to the factory. Find the evil chocolate. Eat the chocolate. Eat the brains."

"We gotta be patient! We can't fuck this up, Venom. We'll find some other brains, okay?" 

 Yeah, sure. Find some other live brains. Like it's that easy. No matter how much Eddie might prowl around at night, it's kind of hard to find an evil soul that won't be missed. Mrs. Chen's shop has been closed for the past few days, and when he saw her at the laundromat she didn't say a word to him. The homeless people won't be missed by society, but he isn't going to eat one of those poor folks. If he could, he'd go to the zoo and unleash Venom on the chimpanzees, but who knows what could happen in the ensuing ruckus? What if they caught him, tased him, took Venom away? Locked him back up in the lab, where'd be cold, and alone, and cut into little pieces for testing. 

No. That's never going to happen. 

It just kind of makes Eddie feel a bit like a shit host, and so after a quick search to find out where exactly he might find brains, he ends up in Chinatown. There's a promising-looking restaurant that has a pig's brain hot pot on the menu, but Venom wants it raw, and so he finds himself squeezing in front of a long meat counter in some market with a name he can't pronounce. The pig brains come in frozen, not fresh, but it'll do. He hopes it'll do.

 _Why pig, Eddie?_ Venom asks, while he's cheerfully swinging a bag full of brains on the walk home.

"Pigs are really smart. You can train 'em like dogs. See, what I'm thinking is, you need like, a big brain. I guess sea lions can do tricks and stuff too, but pigs are supposed to be really smart. I mean, what exactly is it about human brains that makes them what you need?"

 _I don't know._ _Seal brain is good, yes. Tasty and squishy and fatty. But the human brain has... more._

"More what?"

Venom twitches or something inside of him. All Eddie knows is that he feels hot and strange and wriggly for a flash, and when it fades he's sagging. Despondent.

"Don't you worry about it," he says, as comforting as possible. "We're gonna try all kinds of brains. See what works out for you. But I promise you, I swear. If we find any humans we can just totally kill and get away with it, you can eat their brains. And! Tonight, we can go, and uh, try and see if we can break into the chocolate factory. 'Cause you're right, we gotta get that evidence. Sound good to you?"

 _Okay._ Quiet and resigned.

Eddie doesn't like that. At all.

"You know, you were pretty good last night. At uh. When we, uh..." Talking to himself on the street is bad enough, he doesn't wanna say _that_ out loud, but the very thought makes his entire torso feel warm and bubbly.

His hoodie rumbles when Venom hisses, smooth and sweet, _I know, Eddie. I was there_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> will eddie and his alien infiltrate the sees chocolate factory? will i make a reference to the infamous i love lucy episode? only time will tell (yeah, PROBABLY)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw: gore
> 
> also: sees isn't even a multinational distributor, they don't process raw cacao, do you even know how the chocolate industry and cacao market works eddie
> 
> (no, he does not)
> 
> i wont go on about cacao processing, but

The pig brains were a hit. So were the pigeon brains, snapped up by a quick black lash at a windowsill, and the rat brains, likewise scooped up from an alley. Eddie didn’t even see the rat, Venom was just on it like that. But six hours later, standing in front of the chain-link fence behind the See’s factory, Eddie is starting to feel queasy.

_Just nerves, Eddie. Relax._

“Look at this place, huh? Not even barbed wire on the fence.” He squints, pulls out a pair of binoculars. One, two cameras. He’s wearing a black ski-cap, at least, but he thinks, watching their rotation, he might just be able to time it right to slip through the gap when he makes the dash across the lot. There’s a few entrances - picking the lock of the main entrance would definitely set off an alarm, but his best bet might be the big rolled doors at the loading dock.

_This will be easy, Eddie._

“Yeah, yeah, just give me a minute -”

But Venom seeps out, an inky swarm over his hoodie and skicap, and Eddie’s lips move when the spiny teeth split and say, “Let’s _GO._ ”

Clawed fingers and toes make quick work of the fence. Venom darts across the lot ignorant of the cameras, too quick for them to catch anything but a odd blip. No need to pick locks when there’s windows that a fat tentacle can smash before Venom leaps up and drops down.

The goal tonight is simple: find out where Sees is sourcing its cacao from. If it’s from certain areas of the Ivory Coast, Ghana, or Mali, there’s a good chance Brad Kinstler’s gonna lose his head. All Eddie has to do is take a picture, find a name, and go. All Eddie has to do is just - 

Follow the smell.

Cramped hallways, locker rooms, offices full of nothing but tastless paper. No, he can smell it, past all the locked doors he splinters through. Not in the factory itself, full of strange dead machines, but further still, past conveyor belts and massive pots, through one last door to a long, drafty room lined with steel shelves. Dry goods storage.

Here it is!

_Wait, wait, we gotta find -_

No, no, it’s right here! Past the nuts and nougat: giant slabs of chocolate big enough to lie down on. There’s foil and plastic in the way, but he doesn’t mind, chokes it down along with the first bite that makes his head spin. Yes, yes, it is rushing through his veins now, that dark flavor, not all sweet and saccharine like the little bars Eddie buys at the corner shop sometimes. Not quite raw, but close enough: bittersweet and black.

He spreads himself out, oozes over the entire bar, and _devours_. One bar down, plenty to go. Everywhere he bites there is more, more, more, and his host’s heart is thumping, his blood roaring as Eddie screams, and he eats and eats and eats and eats until he sees the lone white light moving up and down distant shelves, back towards the door.

“All right, buddy. Cops are on their way,” a bored voice calls out. “Let’s make this easy, now, huh?”

 _Ah-ha._ He leaps to the ceiling, scrabbles up to find the source of the voice. Hovers over it, pulsing in wait.

“Just come on out with your hands up. No one needs to get hurt, okay?” The man sighs, flicking the flashlight around. There’s a taser at his belt, but he isn’t reaching for it. To himself he mumbles, “If it’s those fucking pot-heads again, I swear -”

Venom’s teeth close around his neck. Heads pop off so easily, it goes rolling while he makes quick work of the body. The raw, live meat he loves pales against the flavor of chocolate, but he sure isn’t going to waste it. The head he tucks under his arm before swinging back to the end of the room; he had plans for this.

He climbs to the top of the shelves and peels all the plastic off another large bar of chocolate. Pops out the eyeballs and slurps them down, licks the blood off the head. Hair isn’t tasty, too stringy and coarse, but this man’s head was shaved. Only makes it easier, to peel off his skin and crack open the skull like one of Eddie’s eggs.

There is his prize, a greyish pink and quivering thing. With one claw he makes pretty curled shavings, dropping them on top of it. The brain is warm enough to melt it, and he tilts the head around to watch it run in rivulets, between each folding coil of pink matter. He could admire it more, or he could slurp it all up in one quick flick of the tongue.

Perfect.

Venom falls back, still atop the chocolate bar, finally sated. The empty skull, stuffed with another chunk of chocolate, is dessert.

_We gotta get out of here. He said -_

“Police are coming.”

Eddie said he can’t eat police. But why not? The more brains the merrier. Maybe he’ll play with those machines he ran past. Make a lovely box of brain-filled chocolates.

_No, no, no! A random security guard is bad enough. If you eat a cop, they’ll start looking. They’ll try to -_

“Hey, Brett, what’s the holdup?”

Another guard.

“What’s going on in here? Hey, what the fuck -”

_He saw us!_

He saw us, Eddie!

_Shit, shit, shit -_

It’s okay. He’s gone now. No time for a feast, just grab and go. They’ve got to move, now. Back through the factory, back to the windows, but when he lands in the lot spinning red and blue lights are arriving. The cops are here, and they’re going to take Eddie away and take him away, send him back to a lab, force him to bond with other things and cut him to pieces and -

_Look, it’s just one cop. He’s parked. Probably calling for backup. We can just -_

Run away?

_Run!_

Venom smashes through the fence and runs, away from the lights, away from the sirens, and finds the water.

 

 

Eddie crawls out of the bay onto a rocky shore, blood hammering in his skull, and vomits red and black chunks.

“What the fuck,” he croaks, and rolls over.

_Sorry, Eddie._

“What the hell happened back there? What about the story?” Christ, he ate two guys. Just some random security guards on a graveyard shift. If he left - no, there wouldn’t be evidence. Unless someone, say, finds his puke here and does some kind of CSI-level forensics, which isn't real and never happens. He's safe. 

_I'm sorry._

There weren’t even fucking cacao beans there. Those were fully processed chocolate bars, from somewhere - Eddie can’t remember. There was some label on those packaged slabs he didn't read. There was no story. Nothing. In the aftermath all he knows is this: first came euphoria, then carnage, and finally, the fear.

He wipes his mouth with the sleeve of his stinking hoodie. “Hey, Venom?”

Nothing. Nothing but something small, and quivering, embedded where his spine meets his skull.

"You wanna talk about what the hell that was?" 

The fear is spreading, cold and numbing. Eddie drags himself up, vomits a little more into the bay. There's no lights down here, no reflection in those black waters. He stares until he realizes he's waiting to see those white eyes like headlights. 

“It’s okay. You just got a little carried away. Happens to the best of us. Shit, you were all, like that I Love Lucy episode. Chocolate, right? Who could resist that?” Eddie chuckles weakly. Nothing replies. 

They can talk about this later. Right now, everything is aching. No cuts from smashing through the windows, but even Venom can’t metabolize the fifty pounds or so of chocolate he just ate. The sugar rush is long gone; all he wants is to puke out his guts. But when he tries, all he can do is dry heave around in the finger in his throat. 

_Eddie, the story -_

"It's okay." His throat burns.

_We were going to be **heroes** , Eddie. _

"It's okay." They're still good. They're alive. "We're fine," he says, and Venom warms up, makes himself a little larger inside of him. 

So he lies there until his blood dies down and his gorge settles. Until the dawn rises, and he can drag himself to the nearest bus station and go home.  


End file.
